


Without You, I'll Never Be Home

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [22]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: COC 2020, COC Day 24, Carry On Countdown, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 24, CoC, DAY 24 - Song, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Song - Freeform, Song: Share Your Address (Ben Platt), Songfic, mature because they talk about sex a lot lmao, they are so sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 24 - Song“It doesn’t matter where I go/Without you, I’ll never be home/I wanna share your address.” - Ben Platt, Share Your AddressSimon is impulsive (sort of) and asks Baz a big question.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Comments: 20
Kudos: 114
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Without You, I'll Never Be Home

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I have never done a songfic before and it was so fun! I did cry a whole bunch while writing it because I love my BOYS and I love this song. so much. please listen to it. 
> 
> SONG: Share Your Address (Ben Platt)

_Baz looks really good today._

I catch myself thinking it and say it out loud instead. Just so he knows. 

“Baz,” I say, diverting his attention from his phone. “You look really good today.” 

He smiles at me and pokes my stomach with his foot. “Thank you for noticing,” he teases. I don’t mind when he teases me.

He’s got his feet propped up on my lap and I’m using his calf as a phone stand so I can watch a Minecraft Let’s Play while I massage his feet. I think I’d be grossed out if anyone else asked me to massage their feet — but Baz’s feet are really nice (I don’t have a foot thing, he just has good ones) and he goes so damn soft when I do this for him. 

And I have something big to spring on him today so I need him relaxed and open to change. 

I squeeze his toes and nervously run my thumbnail across the center of his foot. 

“ _Ah!_ ” he half-shrieks, tugging his foot up and knocking my phone out of its previous position. He glares at me. “Simon, what the hell?” 

I pout and reach out to pull his foot back. “Come back,” I mumble. 

“Not if you’re going to _do that_ again,” he says, tucking his knee up to his chest so his foot won’t return to my lap no matter how hard I tug at the hem of his trouser leg. 

“I won’t,” I insist. I lean over and kiss his ankle. “Please?” 

Baz raises an eyebrow but slowly puts his foot back down on top of my thighs. I move my phone out of the way and set it on the arm of the sofa. 

My leg starts to bounce a bit without my permission, jostling Baz’s feet again. He sighs in exasperation and tugs both of his feet out of my lap. Before I can do so much as open my mouth to protest, he’s sat up on the couch, cross-legged. He’s right up next to me now and has got the fronts of his crossed legs pressed into my side — he’s so close and it’s almost distracting. He smells so good.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, messing with the sleeve of my t-shirt. 

“ _Hmm?_ ” I respond, trying to play dumb. (I’m referred to as thick on a regular basis by my boyfriend so it can’t be that much of a stretch. I like to believe I’m a good actor as well.)

“You’re all antsy,” he observes. 

I look up at him and feel my words catch in my throat.

_I want this,_ I think. _I want everything with Baz — waking up in the same bed and not having to worry about Penny, making him fucking romantic breakfast in bed platters, folding his laundry and putting it in drawers next to mine. Having matching house keys. Having photos of just the two of us on the walls._

That’s where this is going. 

I’m afraid to tell him, but I’ve put a down-payment on a flat for us. It’s not too far from this flat (although, granted, in the cheaper part of London) and I fell in love with it the moment the listing popped up in my browser. 

I’ve been working extra hours at the bakery for months now and I saved up enough for the first two months of rent. 

I don’t know how to tell Baz about everything that I want. Jesus, I want everything. I want packages to show up at the door with both of our names on them. I want to wake up and stare at him until he wakes up and hits me upside the head for being a creep. I want to help him put on his cufflinks when he has posh family events. I want to have sex with him in our living without the fear of roommates (or roommates’ nosy American boyfriends) walking in. 

_I want._

_And I think— I hope— he wants, too._

“Baz,” I say.

He raises both eyebrows at me, waiting. 

And I consider knocking something over as a distraction and running away, keeping him waiting forever. Because my heart is beating really fast and I’m sure he can hear it. 

I’m not afraid of rejection, I don’t think. I think it’s— it has to be— 

“Simon?” 

I blink a bit and nod. “Right, so, I uh, would you— have you ever considered— well, what I mean is, _fuck_ —” 

“Darling, calm down,” he says, reaching out and gripping both of my hands in his. See, this is what I want. I want to be intimate and open with my lovely ( _fucking lovely — how did I not see how lovely he was all those years?_ ) boyfriend in the privacy of _our own home_. “Just tell me.” 

I nod and swallow roughly. His eyes follow my throat. “I want you to live with me.” 

He lets out a huffing laugh. “I practically do, love. I haven’t been back to Fiona’s in over a week.” 

“No,” I say, frustrated with myself for not being as eloquent as I want to be. Baz wouldn’t be having this problem if it were him taking the plunge — he’s so damn articulate that it’s annoying. Fucking tosser. “I want to _live_ with you. I— I put a down payment on a flat. Here. In London. For you and I.” 

I don’t even let him get a word in edgewise because now that I’m going, I apparently can’t stop. 

“It’s really cute,” I continue, looking down at our connected hands. “And it could be just ours. Fuck, I love Penny and Shep, you know I do— I do, but I want to sleep with you. I mean— fuck, I mean, like sleep in the same bed. Our bed. And, well, yeah, I also want to _sleep with you_ — like fuck you, of course, you know, but, um. Shit. Like, not just you sleeping in my bed. Us sleeping in _our bed_. Does that make sense? Christ, Baz, this sounded really good in my head, I promise—” 

He finally shuts me the fuck up by kissing me. 

“You’re a mess,” he says against my mouth when he’s smiling too much to continue. 

I blush. “I know,” I say. And then, I wait. For him to either say that this is the most impulsive decision I’ve ever made or that it’s way too soon. 

He says both.

“Simon,” Baz says. “You are an impulsive nightmare and I’d say it was too early in the relationship if we were a regular couple.” And, then, as if sensing my apprehension, adds, “But we’re clearly not a regular couple.” He gestures to my wings and then adds, “You forget that we shared a room for seven years.” 

“I didn’t forget!” I insist. “We barely even shared the room. I can count the times we were in there at the same time on two hands.” An exaggeration, but not a huge one. 

Baz scoots in towards me, his long legs bunched up in their crossed position. He grips onto my hands and catches my gaze. “Love,” he murmurs gently. “I don’t think you know how long I’ve wanted to live with you. Hell, why do you think I practically beg to stay the night all the time? I want it just as much as you do.” 

He kisses me and I feel like crying. (I don’t cry— I have just a bit more dignity than that.) 

“I want to clean up after your inevitable midnight snack raids,” he whispers. 

I open my mouth to argue, but he shushes me with a finger pressed against my lips. 

He continues. “I want to have matching fucking keychains with you with our flat keys on them. I want to take care of you when you’re sick and bring you tea in _our bed_. I want to be with you— live with you— until I keel over from love.” 

My dignity has flown out the window and I’m openly crying now. “Really?” I ask, my voice a bit more wobbly than I would have liked. 

“Yes,” he says. “You disaster. You beautiful—” he kisses me, “impulsive—” he kisses me again, “handsome disaster.” When he pushes his mouth to mine again, I don’t let him pull away. I tug him in close and grab at his hips to pull him into my lap. I kiss him hard, trying to let every single word that I can’t seem to spit out be conveyed through this kiss. 

And it’s one hell of a kiss. 

We’re both panting by the time we pull back. 

“I can’t wait to shag on a bed that’s not falling apart,” Baz says pointedly, grinning in that vulnerable way that I love. 

I roll my eyes. “Hey, it does the trick, doesn’t it?” I mutter. 

Baz wraps his arms around my shoulders and tucks his head on top of mine. I slide my hands up the back of his shirt and feel out his lovely cool skin, running my fingers teasingly along his spine. 

“You know I’ll ask you to marry me someday, right?” he whispers into my hair. 

I smile. And I kiss his collarbone. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> one of my fav lines in You’ve Got Mail is tom hanks’ character saying “I was eloquent! Shit!” and that reminds me of simon in this fic (this you've got mail reference is for you, dana)


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